> A common trap is slot canyons in the southwest desert in the summer, when it's hot and dry, and hikers don't know about the rains in the distant mountains.

Good example of a flash food in a canyon, and subsequent rescue: https://youtu.be/FJOpZF_4b-w

That was intense!

My biggest take away from this is that people put lots of faith in their cars to bring them safety etc.

"It's easy to turn your back on the ocean" - this almost deserves its own category. Other/shipping traffic, waves, weather, lightning (especially risky on a sailboat!), hypothermia ... there's just very little margin for error in some situations, and those concerns can so easily compound.

I've done some crazy things in my life, but it's always been the ocean that puts me truly close to death. If there's anything positive about those experiences, it's the lesson that sometimes the difference between life and death is keeping your head and not panicking.

Contrary to popular belief, lightning is not especially risky on a sailboat.

It is very rare that a metal sailboat mast on a fiberglass boat will be struck by lightning.

The most common occurrence is an EMP that fries all of the electronics as the result of a nearby water strike.

In many, many years of sailing and through many thunderstorms that would melt your shorts just to see them approaching, with lightning all around and no perceptible delay between the flash and the thunder, none of the various sailboats I have been on was ever directly hit by lightning.

> I've been on mountain peaks on nice summer days when storms appear as out of nowhere (not the typical afternoon rains), and there's lightning, high winds, and 50ºF temperature swings. In that kind of situation, things can turn very dangerous very quickly. Stuff that you take for granted suddenly isn't true any more: some rock which is rough and gives great traction suddenly gets slippery, winds that come from a prevailing direction suddenly come from somewhere else and the formerly sheltered areas aren't any more, clouds and fogs may come in and visibility may drop to zero.

Even hiking out here in the Appalachians the swiftness of the arrival of thunderstorms has caught me offguard a few times. You can go from sun to hail, blistering wind gusts, and lightning in short succession, and if you're on a high bald you really may have nowhere to hide.

As the essay above hints at, this potential danger is part of why we seek these places out. When you follow the happy path, you get exercise, views, solitude... all rewarding of course. But being apart from the safety net of civilization can put you on a knife's edge. You can find yourself off that happy path surprisingly quickly - and for the adrenaline junkies among us, it's part of why we're out there.

(Maybe ops engineers, or old school sysadmins, can somewhat relate...)

Old school sysadmin, now "ops".

Always been drawn to caves and mines. The more remote the better. Your Garmin won't work there. Better be sure you're ready for what might happen because you are the cavalry.

I'm a rock climber in an area with a lot of caves and there's a lot of overlap in the rock climbing and caving communities.

I've done some pretty bold climbing, and I've also done some climbing in some squeeze chimneys that would trigger a lot of people's claustrophobia. Heights can be a bit scary because there is objective danger, but tight spaces don't really bother me.

But the idea of something going wrong and having no way to call for backup absolutely terrifies me. It's why I have no interest in caving despite having been invited many times.

Just read this article and I love how they called the Grand Canyon, the inverted mountain.

I hiked down into it a few years ago. I feel like I'm a well-prepared person. On less than a day mountain hikes, I always bring about 1500 calories worth of bars, 2.5L of water, a flashlight, multitool, and something warm if it's cold. It adds a bit of weight but I feel at ease with some backup tools. I made my way down to the bottom (easy) when I realized I was already out of water. WTF I said and I opened my camelback and behold, there was a hole. When I had sat down for a short breather, a really sharp rock had stabbed right through my bag and water bladder with ease and the the bag completely drained.

I pushed my way back up but it was very hot and I think I hit the first or 1.5 stage of heat exhaustion. Like the article, my brain felt like mush and I felt a massive struggle to move. Luckily, there's a spring or some kind of water source midway or so and I just drank a solid amount of water before moving on to the next. I ended up making it ok but it definitely was uncomfortable thinking you were going to dehydrate as you went up.

Random story but I just wanted to share that you can prepare all you want and sometimes life still tries to kick you in the butt. These days I carry a small garmin device that can call a helicopter anywhere in hte world. It costs a bit but it's worth the peace of mind that if I manage to injure myself to the point of being unable to move, I can call for help.

Wow, I already have kind of a habit of bringing some of my water in a hard-sided bottle, but I think it'll be a policy now.

Redundancy, i.e. multiple containers, is probably more important.

While at Red Rock I dropped a Smart Water bottle between some boulders and was unable to retrieve it. The fact that I had a second one might have saved my life that day.

The scary thing is that when I packed the water that way, I totally wasn't trying to create redundancy, I was trying to balance my pack by splitting the water weight between the two bottle containers on the two sides.

I did the rim-to-rim hike in 2018, from the North Rim to the South. The Grand Canyon is set up to kill the overconfident. On a normal "mountain" hike, the hard part is at the beginning. If you have any problems you just turn around, and it becomes all downhill. Once you get to the top, all the hard stuff is done. If you screwed up your water/food intake, it doesn't matter too much.

At the Grand Canyon, the first half is the easy one. It lulls you into thinking you are doing great. It's nice and cool and downhill. Once you get to the bottom, the real work begins. It's 100 degrees with no shade, and any slight problem on the way down it going to be heavily magnified on the way up. If you didn't hydrate or eat on the way down because it felt so easy, you're in trouble once you hit the bottom.

Back to the original subject - there were signs telling people to look out for someone who had fallen off a boat tour in the Colorado River a few days prior. There was also a pair of hikers who had either taken a wrong turn, or had taken a scenic route near the bottom. All three died.

>Random story but I just wanted to share that you can prepare all you want and sometimes life still tries to kick you in the butt.

Probably the most useful mantra from the prepping community that gets burned into your brain is "two is one, and one is none".